An Exception
by J.AustenAddict
Summary: A butler. An earl. A governess. Even in the darkest times, in the coldest hearts-where there is no real loyalty, no morals, no love...There will always be an exception.  And she was his. SebastianxOC


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Black Butler(Kuroshitsuji) or any of its characters. I do own my OC.

**PLEASE READ**:

**I've only watched the episodes and am attempting to find and read the manga online. ****This story takes place at about episode 3, but before episode 4 with Jack the Ripper. This Fanfic will contain elements from the anime AND the manga, along with my own original ideas, changing things but hopefully for the better. **

**Yes, it DOES have an OC and I will try my hardest to make her into a well rounded character who aids the plot, but does not turn into a spotlight hogging Mary Sue. Please give her a shot.**

**Without further ado, An Exception~**

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter One**

"_First impressions are a constant in society. However, their product, the period that proves or disproves their validity is not; good ones are pleasant and long lasting, bad ones long and difficult to disprove."~Diego Valesquez_

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_..._

Rain beat down onto the horse drawn carriage as it gradually made its way down the dirt road. The dark brown horses strained to pull their feet out of the cold mud, water running down their flanks. Shivering, the poor driver pulled his coat tighter around his body in an attempt to block the furious wind, but to no avail. The carriage jumped as it went over rock and bumps in the road, jostling its passengers.

A young girl inside was thrown from her seat and into the lap of the woman sitting across from her. The woman pulled her into the seat between her and an elderly butler—who was sleeping soundly against all odds—before wrapping an arm around the girl's shoulders. "Careful, my Lady; you do not want to hurt yourself before we arrive."

"You mean _if_ we arrive!" The girl wailed and jumped as thunder clapped loudly outside. She burrowed closer to the woman.

"I told you we should have stayed at the Inn," The young woman reprimanded calmly and reached to fasten the top button of the girl's coat, which had come undone. "But you would have none of it, Miss Lizzy."

Lizzy pushed a few strands of blond hair out of her eyes and pouted. "I only wished to visit him—and the weather was so beautiful when we left!"

Before the woman could respond the carriage jerked suddenly and swung to the left, all three persons crashing to the floor with Lizzy protected in the circle of the woman's arms. The woman, however, promptly smacked her head against the wall. "Blast!" she hissed. "What in bloody hell is going on?"

They commenced in picking themselves off the floor and the woman flung the door open. Wind swept through the carriage and swung the lady's skirt. She cautiously stepped down. Rain dripped down her face as she turned to her young charge. "Stay inside, Miss Elizabeth, Arthur!" She yelled. The butler nodded, slightly befuddled. She shut the door and began sloshing her way to the driver. He was kneeling by the front left wheel, which had broken on contact with a large rock sticking out from the road.

He stood. "Ma'am! Ya need ta get back inside, ya'll catch ya death!"

"Sir!" She shouted against the gusts, clutching her skirts in black gloved fists, ignoring him. "How far are we from the mansion?"

"Maybe 'bout ten kilometers, give er take?"

The lady shifted her gaze to the horses. They eyed her warily and stomped on the thick mud. The whinnied and shook their manes vigorously, sending droplets into her face. She turned back to the driver and screamed, "Can your horses make it?"

His eyes widened. "Ma'am, ya oughtta be crazy ta think o' that! Best ta wait it out!"

She pushed her way towards him, water seeping through her coat and soaking her clothes. Her mouth hovered close to his ear as she shouted to him, making it very clear what Lady Middleford's fiancée and parents would think when their little darling died of pneumonia and what would happen to the man who allowed it. His face steadily got paler as she suggested the creative punishments the Queen's Watchdog could inflict. If, however, he wished to escort them to the Earl's house, he would be handsomely rewarded—and with his privates still intact.

The driver struggled in the rain, suiting up the horses as if his life depended on it.

Which it did.

Pulling her feet out of the mud, she returned to the carriage door and entered. Miss Lizzy was fiddling with her gloves, something she did often when she was nervous. The old butler Arthur was attempting to drown out the storm by reading from an old newspaper he had taken on the trip with him, but every few sentences he would start wheezing and have to stop for breathe. Lizzy leapt to her feet when she entered. "What's happened?" Lizzy cried.

"The wheel has broken, my Lady, and the driver and I are going to be riding ahead to the Earl's house." This was a new development. She had not planned to go with him, but the butler looked as if he would drop dead from such rigorous riding. Concern and worry danced at the edge of her expression. "Will you be safe until then?"

"Oh, yes!" Lizzy smiled sweetly. "Ciel will fix everything! And I have Arthur to keep me company!"

Arthur gave a nod. "I will protect her with my life."

The woman was not comforted by his declaration.

Lizzy hugged Arthur as their observer looked on skeptically. Digging in her pocket, Lizzy pulled out a romance novel she had tucked away for the long voyage. "Here, Arthur! I'll read to you until Ciel comes for us!"

Opening the book to the first page, she began to read of a lovely young maiden sent to live as a servant because of her wicked stepmother. The young woman took it as her chance to slip away and went to see if the horses were ready.

By the time Lizzy had reached the part where the prince had spied the beautiful pauper dressed in a lovely gown at the ball, the servant and driver were already halfway to the mansion, the rain pouring onto them as if the heavens wept.

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Heavy rain slid down the windows of the large ornate dining hall, large brocade curtains hanging from the top of the tall windows to brush against the floor. An elaborate mural spread across the ceiling and the floor shone. In the center of the room stretched a long mahogany dining table with delicate carvings twisting up the legs, although the surface was covered with an expensive French satin table clothe. Simple yet elegant candlesticks sat unlit in the middle of the table, as much of the light was coming from curved torches along the hall and a jeweled chandelier, the flames flicker, flicker, flickering and illuminating the room.

At the head of this table sat a young boy, dressed in a dark black suit and black eye patch. He carefully ate his dish and upon devouring the last bite, set down his silverware and dabbed his small, childlike mouth with his napkin. His one eye glinted from the light shining down on him.

As if on cue, the butler took his plate and the maid carefully filled Ciel Phantomhive's near empty glass. A chef with a small cigarette dangling from his lips entered the room, wheeling a cart with a single dish placed upon it. The butler took it and placed it before Ciel and with a flourish revealed the dessert. "A crème brulee, consisting of a brittle caramelized top and a contrasting rich custard base, prepared to my Lord's taste," described the butler, smiling.

Ciel did not so much as blink. His spoon cracked the surface and he took a bite. "Thank you, Sebastian."

The butler bowed in acknowledgment.

The maid, cook and the two butlers stood at attention as the master devoured his dessert, before he once again set aside his silverware, dabbed his mouth, and stood from the table. He walked past them toward the door, which was held open by the gardener. His servants bowed as he past them, but he did not spare a glance.

At the door, Ciel paused momentarily. "I will be working late tonight, Sebastian. I want no disruptions."

Sebastian bowed once again. "Yes, my Lord."

With that the young man was gone. Sebastian turned toward them. "Bardroy, take the dishes to the kitchen and begin cleaning. Maylene, did you put the Master's China in a safe location for the storm?" The maid and chef sprung into action. Sebastian glanced toward the windows, which vibrated with each clap of thunder. "Finnian, did you prepare the horses for the night?" Finnian hands jumped to his face in a panic and he hurried to do just that.

Tanaka looked at Sebastian expectantly as he sipped his tea. "You are fine as you are, Tanaka."

Tanaka sighed contentedly.

Walking calmly through the hall, Sebastian made his way to the main entrance and after putting his hand in his pocket, came out with an old and well-used key ring. Sebastian tried to ignore the shriek and crashes that echoed from behind him, but he could not contain a small sigh.

He was less than six yards from the wide double doors when they were pushed open and a large gale swept into the room, making his coat tails billow behind him.

From the dark emerged Finny with an arm around someone, a bewildered-looking man following behind them. Finny released the person by his side and took the left door, with Sebastian taking the right, each pushing them together and with a single _click!_ the doors were closed.

"Finnian," said Sebastian quietly, turning toward him. Finny blanched. "What is the meaning of this?" Sebastian gestured toward the persons now dripping wet in the hall.

Gulping, Finnian jabbered, "Well, you see, I was putting the horses away like you said and they came —"

"Excuse me."

Sebastian switched his gaze to the woman. Water streamed down her clothes and mud coated her boots and the bottom of her dress, which was not of a fine material, but not cheap either. A servant, or commoner of middle class. Her hair had come undone from whatever style she had previously arranged and it hung in wet clumps, sticking to her face which held a wary expression even though her teeth were chattering. He raised an eyebrow and gave a small tilt of his head. "Yes?"

She stepped forward. "Am I right to understand that this is the home of Earl Phantomhive?"

His eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "It is indeed."

"I must speak to him; it is of the utmost urgency."

"Is that so?" He asked lightly. "I'm afraid the master is unavailable at the moment, but if you would be to leave your name and what your situation is, we could schedule an appointment for you."

She glared at him and raised her chin. "My name, sir, is Beatrice Williamson, governess of Lady Elizabeth Esel Cordelia Middleford, and my _situation_ is my charge stranded in a broken carriage over ten kilometers from us!"

The smirk at the edge of Sebastian's mouth promptly fled. He walked briskly past them and toward the Master's study.

Beatrice's mouth was a small circular 'o' at his abrupt manner, before she stumbled after him, clutching her sopping wet skirts in her hand. "Wait! _Wait_, dammit!" He quickened his pace and she was left huffing after him. "Aren't you going to _do_ anything?"

He briefly looked over his shoulder at her flushed face before once again turning his back on her. "Finnian," He called and Finnian straightened. "Prepare the carriage. You and I will be tending to Lady Elizabeth; and have Maylene find some towels for the—ah—_guests_."—Sebastian said the word with slightest inflection of disdain—"They are causing a mess."

Finnian quickly disappeared from the thickening atmosphere.

Beatrice scowled at Sebastian's retreating form before turning her back on him to see the 'mess' he had spoken of; a miniature Thames had followed her from the moment she entered the building to where she stood presently, where the water continued to drizzle and spread around her.

Retracing her steps to stand beside the driver—_stupid, useless man_, she thought, although she did not know if it was directed toward the driver or the arrogant butler—they waited until the maid came with towels and mops for them. Trying to suppress her impatience, Beatrice smiled gratefully at the maid—Maylene, was it?—and peeled off her coat, placing it into the bag Maylene had brought with her; it had taken the brunt of the weather but still hadn't stopped her clothes from getting soaked.

She was squeezing the water out of her hair when the butler reappeared wearing a heavy coal black coat. Striding in front of him was a small boy—and what a strange boy! The lone eye was much too old for that body, an eye that had seen more than a twelve year old should. On the other was an—an eye patch! She was caught somewhere between wanting to giggle or gape at him like a fish. Beatrice was so startled she almost forgot to curtsy.

Ciel Phantomhive signaled for her to rise and asked, "You are Lizzy's governess?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"And why are you not with her?" he asked accusingly.

"I was the only one of our party suitable to make the ride." She lifted her chin. "I would not have left if I had felt there was another way."

Ciel leveled an icy gaze, studying her, before nodding decisively. "It may not have been the wisest course of action, but necessary under the circumstance." He touched the blue diamond of his ring. "If I did not have my _resources_….This is no longer your responsibility; I shall take care of it."

"She will always be my responsibility," Beatrice responded, standing straighter.

They stared at each other.

Finny burst into the hall. "The carriage is set!" Finny declared breathlessly. He was bundled in a too large coat and mittens, with a knit hat pulled over his head. Beatrice dropped her gaze and continued drying her hair.

Ciel nodded and turned toward the butler. "Sebastian!"

"My Lord?"

Ciel pointed toward the driver, who had made a hasty bow. "Have this man take you back to Elizabeth"—the driver's face fell—"retrieve her, and make sure he is paid what is owed him. All within the hour. Her safety is top priority. Understood?"

Sebastian bowed low and smiled. "Understood."

The doors shuddered with the force of the thunder and rain outside. Beatrice's heart was in her throat and when Sebastian passed her, she reached a hand out to grab his sleeve. "Be careful—" _with Lady Lizzy_, she meant to say, but a resounding clap of thunder cut her off. He looked down on her.

"How thoughtful of you. I assure you I will return unharmed and with Lady Elizabeth, within the hour, as my Master ordered. You mustn't trouble your—_delicate_ sensibilities." Sarcasm dripped from his words.

She sputtered. _Delicate sensibilities!_ Beatrice yanked her hand back and quickly tried to think of a suitable retort, but he swiftly left with a smirk on his face. Finny and the driver hurried to catch up to him.

Embarrassment and anger flooded her veins, and if her face hadn't been red before, it surely was now.

A small cough broke the silence.

Ciel stood calmly evaluating her and then ordered Maylene to bring suitable clothes for the guest to change into, and then to escort Beatrice to the main parlor to wait for Elizabeth. Maylene curtsied, almost tumbling over, but Ciel took no notice, having already turned his back on the both of them, and departed.

Beatrice took a deep calming breathe to settle her nerves. Her hands slowly uncurled from their fists.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Williamson," Maylene said with a tentative smile and adjusted her glasses. She was a slight thing, very short and petite, with bright red hair and large circular glasses that covered most of her face. She tugged on her maid's uniform self-consciously.

"Please call me Beatrice," she responded, smiling in turn. "May I call you Maylene?"

Maylene's smile grew. "Of course, Miss W—Beatrice," she amended. Maylene turned towards the direction of a small door down the hall Beatrice hadn't noticed before. "Follow me and we'll get your clothes."

With Beatrice following closely behind, they moved through the hall and into the hidden servant's entrance. They turned left, a sharp right, right again—Beatrice did her best to remember the directions they were going, in order to coordinate in the future. They came to an extremely neat room with a round full length mirror, white walls and a pink bed, with a large white wardrobe standing next to a matching pink screen. Maylene went to her wardrobe and fussed with the clothing, talking nervously, "I'm sorry we don't have better clothes to accommodate you, it's such short notice, and I'm the only woman on the staff—"

"What?" Behind the screen, Beatrice stopped in removing her dress. "The _only_ woman?"

Maylene dug deeper into the closet. "Why, yes! Oh—I think I might have found something—wait—"

Beatrice rolled down her stockings. The only woman? Impossible! "But how many servants are there?"

Muffled by the pile of identical uniforms, Maylene's answer was muffled. "Fmmm."

"Huh?"

Maylene repeated, "Five."

Beatrice almost fell over backwards. "Five? _Five?_"

"Yes. I'm the maid, Bard—you'll meet Bard later—is the cook, but Sebastian assists him often. Finny—he went with Sebastian—is the gardener, and Sebastian—"

"—is the butler," Beatrice finished. Four—it was impossible to fathom. She hadn't seen the mansion clearly through the rain, but moving through the house she could tell it was colossal, bigger than Lady Frances Middleton's. How could four possibly maintain it?

She pondered this as she took the clothes Maylene handed her around the screen and began putting them on, noticing that a corset was absent—Beatrice loathed the things and only wore them when required—and Beatrice felt a beautiful friendship forming.

"Yes, with Tanaka, but we couldn't do it without Sebastian. He keeps everything running smoothly and helps out everywhere and is the Master's personal servant and—when need be—tutor." _Maybe not so beautiful,_ Beatrice thought as she noted the hero worship that entered Maylene's speech when she spoke of Sebastian.

"Sounds like quite the catch." Beatrice said sarcastically.

It flew right past Maylene. "Oh, he is! He's charming and any girl"—here she blushed—"would be lucky to have him."

"So—excuse me if I'm being too forward—he isn't married? Perhaps his charm isn't enough to make a girl like him enough to marry him?" She wondered aloud. She knew she sounded nasty, but she was too tired to care any longer.

"W-w-w-well," Maylene stuttered, uncomfortable and somewhat stiffly. "W-w-what's n-not to like?"

"What indeed," Beatrice murmured as she quickly tried to dress. Oh, dear. The dress was much too tight and Beatrice had to move carefully in fear of ripping it in two.

"Umm, Maylene?" Beatrice called, breaking the maid out of her sweet daydreams.

"Yes?"

Beatrice squirmed in the dress.

"I need your help."

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"I need your help," Sebastian called to Finnian.

Finnian scurried towards Sebastian, who was holding a spare carriage wheel under his arm. Water dripped from their hair and Finnian was wet to the bone. Finnian lifted the edge of Lady Lizzy's carriage to allow Sebastian to fix the wheel into place. The weather made the wheel slick and the mud slippery, and Finnian had to carefully brace himself so as not to drop the carriage onto Sebastian.

"Now."

Finnian lowered the carriage and crawled beneath it—and _heaved_. He held it above his head as he walked to the side of the road, before gingerly setting it back down.

Lizzy and Arthur watched with wide eyes from the safety of the Phantomhive carriage.

Sebastian began to make his way toward his carriage and entered. "Miss Lizzy, we shall be departing now"—he glanced at a wheezing Finnian and the miserable driver, who was drowning in water and self-pity—"and be making our way toward the estate, so you must tell me now if there is anything more you need to retrieve?"

"Oh, no, Sebastian! I do believe we have it all!" The pile of luggage above the Phantomhive carriage supported this statement. Elizabeth smiled up at him. "Thank you for rescuing us!"

Sebastian bowed and humbly stated, "What would a Phantomhive Butler be, if I could not do such a thing?"

With that he took his leave, closing the door securely behind him. He wiped the water out of his eyes.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

He turned toward the dark wood, his keen eyes searching for something… watching him.

Taking a deep breathe, Sebastian let it out slowly and agilely climbed onto the driver's seat, his voice clear through the storm. "Finnian! John!"—the miserable driver lifted his head—"Keep the Lady entertained on the way back to Phantomhive!"

Finnian and the driver's equally droll faces brightened immediately, slipping over each other as they both rushed toward the carriage.

Sebastian brushed off his earlier feeling. He shook himself; it must have been the weather playing tricks on him. He took the reigns into his hands and urged the horses forward.

Lizzy grinned at Finny and John as the carriage lurched forward. "You're just in time for the best part!"

With that, she cracked open her novel and began to read of the handsome prince going to war in an effort to rescue the maiden, who he had grown to love more than his own kingdom, and who was under a deep enchantment, and needed the kiss of her true love to break the spell.

Finnian sighed happily, while John promptly fell asleep.

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The roar of the fire was all that was heard in the dark parlor. Beatrice's eyes were heavy from sleep, but she kept her back straight in fear any sudden movement would rip the maid's uniform she wore. A teacup untouched sat beside her on a small stand. Ciel Phantomhive took the barest of sips from his, the one eye staring into the flames.

The silence dragged out, until finally—a quarter to eleven o'clock—Ciel spoke.

"I take it that Lizzy snuck out again?"

"No."

Ciel raised his eyebrows. "No?"

"Her mother is under the impression that there is no stopping Lady Elizabeth"—and here she smiled softly at him—"when she wishes to see you. So she assigned a young maid named Paula to wait on her, and when Paula proved dissatisfactory to the Lady, I was assigned to tutor her and watch out for her."

"Dissatisfactory?"

Beatrice nodded and took a sip of her tea. "Lady Frances Middleton believed Paula too lenient where Lady Lizzy was concerned, and thought my Lady needed a firmer hand that would teach her and look out for her best interest—even if that interest doesn't always correspond to what she wants."

"And do you meet these requirements?"

She looked down at her teacup, frowned, and answered honestly, "I hope so. I try to."

At that, the small interrogation ended—for now. Beatrice studied him as his gaze turned back to the fire. Glancing at the antique grandfather clock, it was seven minutes to eleven. "It seems your butler is going to be late."

A large smirk lit his face, and with the orange cast from the fire…it disturbed her.

"He won't be." He sounded darkly amused at her comment. "I gave him an order. He will follow it. As is customary in the Phantomhive household."

She opened her mouth to retort when the doors opened.

Sebastian walked in, water dripping from the ends of his hair and down his thick black coat. In his arms, perfectly dry, slept Elizabeth

Ciel stood. "Cutting it close, don't you think?"

"Within the hour, as my Master commanded." Sebastian's eyes—red in the firelight—drifted to meet Beatrice's. He quickly dismissed her and looked back at Ciel.

Her eyes flashed and her chin jerked up a notch. She stood carefully, the sides of her dress screeching in protest, and gave him a cold look.

"Sebastian, escort Elizabeth and Miss Williamson to their rooms; I wish to speak to you before bed."

Sebastian nodded, a few droplets falling onto Lizzy's soft cheek. "As you wish."

Beatrice gave a final curtsy, before moving to open the door for Sebastian, who hardly glanced at her.

Together, they made their way through several passages deep into the manor, with Sebastian leading—although Beatrice tried to stay in step with him as much as she could without having her dress rip to pieces. Someone had been their before them and had partially lit the halls they took—perhaps Maylene or the gardener? Finnian? They moved swiftly. His stride was larger than hers, but she was a tall woman, and so it was not long before they reached the suite doors. He paused and she took it as her cue to open the door—if it would have opened.

She tried again.

She shook the knob.

"It's locked."

"Really? Are you sure?" Beatrice responded sweetly and sarcastically. A raging headache pulsed between her temples. She gave him a tight smile that was more a 'go-to-hell' than anything else.

She was paying enough attention to notice his eyebrow twitch marginally. He returned the smile. "If you would hold Miss Elizabeth, I would be able to retrieve the keys."

Raising her arms to even take Lizzy from his grasp proved too strenuous for the gown and she took a step back. He sneered. "You must excuse me; I should have known holding a child would be too much on the weaker sex."

God, this man! This sexist bastard! Had she ever met someone so disagreeable? She wanted to slap that _stupid_ look off his _stupid_ face—but she couldn't. _Don't sink to his level. Breathe. _

"Look. Why don't you just tell me where the keys are and I can get them."

_Good job, Beatrice: You can do this, You CAN do this…_.

He looked at her—was he—was he _amused? _Her headache's tempo increased as he said, "In my pocket."

"I see." Pause. With her own amusement: "Which one?"

He raised a dark eyebrow. "Pants pocket. Left."

Through the half light of the hallway, she stepped closer to him and skimmed her hand over his left hip. Instead of looking away in discomfort or with any grace, he stared unabashedly into her eyes throughout the process. Upon discovery, her hand slipped into his pocket which was surprisingly deep. Beatrice could feel the toned muscle of his thigh through the fabric.

She was politely trying to keep herself from gagging.

Her fingers seized the only object in there and retreated. In her hands was a silver pocket watch.

"Oh, did I say left? I meant, right," he corrected lightly. His initially amusement had grown into a smug smirk dominating his expression.

Her knuckles turned white as they clenched around the watch.

Quickly, she shoved the watch back into its home, found the right pocket and located the key ring while giving the butler her most frigid glare.

She turned her back on him and began deliberating between which key would open the door and which would be the best to jab his eyes out.

"The long bronze one," he supplied helpfully and chuckled.

_Aaah._ An answer for both.

The door swung open easily and they entered the dimly lit suite. Beatrice spotted the entrance to the bedroom right away and moved there before Sebastian in time to pull the covers back. Gently, he laid Lizzy down and she tucked the covers up to her chin. Beatrice untied Lizzy's bonnet and set it on the nightstand before brushing a long strand of hair from Lizzy's face. Beatrice's thumb glided over the smooth cheek and wiped away the few wet spots that had dripped onto her Lady's skin.

_Well, today wasn't totally lost…_Beatrice thought. …_We're all here in one piece…._

The sound of a throat being cleared was all it took to bring her back to reality. Sighing, she stood up to face—_him_.

Sebastian stood silently by the door, the keys resting lightly in his palm and he gestured toward the hall with his free hand. "You're room is this way."

Standing, she walked as quietly as she could out of the room and past the butler with her chin held high. Just as softly, he closed the entrance and led her to a room three doors down. After unlocking it, he mockingly held it open for her. She paused in the doorframe and turned to him_. Get it over with._ "I did not thank you earlier for assisting Miss Elizabeth and I, Mr….?"

"Michaelis. Sebastian Michaelis."

"Mr. Michaelis." She paused, briefly wondering if ripping her intestines out through her mouth would be less painful than saying—"Thank you, Mr. Michaelis."

He gave a slight bow. "You're welcome. Hopefully next time you will acquire more common sense than to bring your charge out in the middle of a thunderstorm."

Beatrice glared at him furiously. How dare he-! Her tired brain scrambled for a suitable retort. "Your advice has been dully noted—as has your lack of propriety, respect, and overall decency. Goodnight, Mr. Michaelis."

She wondered if anyone had dared to talk back to the butler, and deduced the answer as a momentary flitter of surprise was quickly covered by his usually icy countenance; but she had caught it and she had caused it—which gave her more pleasure than it reasonably should. With a flourish, she was about to create one of her more dramatic exits when the door stopped; he had blocked it with the tip of his perfectly polished shoe.

Beatrice shoved the door open, making his eyes widen slightly, and stepped closely to his face. "Mr. Michaelis." Her voice and gaze were stern. "Could you _move?_"

"Please." Sebastian flatly gazed into her eyes. "Forgive me."

Well, well, _well_.

"For your lack of manners or intolerable arrogance?"

"For stepping on your dress before you closed the door." He held up a large wad of clothe and she gasped, her hands searching her skirt. The stitching above the right hip was torn open and what he had in his hand—the underskirt had completely ripped in two! Blast this old dress!

She snatched the hunk of skirt from his hand. Beatrice could feel her face heat up all the way to the tips of her ears. Trying to gain some composure, she said briskly, "What a gentleman—if you can be called that."

The corner of Sebastian's lip twitched. "They call me one hell of a butler."

It was incredibly hard to look dignified while your dress was torn open around the waist and you were clutching an outdated slip in your hand. "Mr. Michaelis."

Sebastian nodded, fighting a smile. "Miss Beatrice."

"Miss Williamson, to you."

He was still waging a war with his snide smirk when he said, with a mockingly elaborate bow, "Again, please, forgive me."

Everything inside of Beatrice snapped-her patience, her stamina, everything. "Never!" she snarled.

His whole face was conquered by the most insufferable cocky grin—she wanted to smack him. Instead, she slammed the door shut, making sure to keep all her dress as intact as she could; and if he stuck out his foot again—she'd be damned if she didn't walk away with one toe! It would serve him right.

Unfortunately, Sebastian did no such thing but as she locked the door, she thought she heard—

Pressing her ears up against the door, Beatrice heard, yes—he was laughing at her!

She said every vile curse she knew as she tried to wrestle herself out of the rags that were now dress, but she could not do it herself—not while she was half dead from sleep. This day had been a complete wreck—a waste—and she hated everything about it! Especially that butler!

With a frustrated grunt, Beatrice ripped the dress in half—which wasn't hard to do considering its current state—and after stepping out of the pile of discarded material, began searching in the smaller suite for her bed. She found it after several stubbed toes and banged knees, but she didn't care. Too tired to get under the covers, she fell asleep in the remains of her underlinens.

As Beatrice dreamed, she heard in the corners of her mind a soft, deep chuckle.

**...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...oOo...**

**Flame, Review, Comment!**

**I hope you have enjoyed the first Chapter in what I hope to be a long and well-written story. Ideas and criticism are welcome. I would be very grateful to hear if my OC begins to be—or is—a Mary Sue. Also I would appreciate to know how I did on Sebastian—he is extraordinarily hard to write and I want to make sure his reactions and actions are genuine.**

**I was so excited to finish the first chapter, I posted it as soon as I could! Thank you so much for reading. It's going slooow, but I promise it will pick up. I'll hurry to write the next installment as soon as I can!**

**~The Author**


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